Ramp Local News

"Loving You Backwards, the debut album from Blood, flourishes in the subtle, the ambiguous, the shades of gray. In winter of 2021, longtime Austin residents Blood made a fresh start, using a move into a house together in Philadelphia as a chance to reorient and spend time writing music around the clock. As they wrote, the sound of the band began to shift. Blood, in the past, made huge, angry, grandiose, operatic songs. Loving You Backwards, was not that. Instead, this debut record is quieter, less reactive, but no less powerful.

As an organism, Blood circa Loving You Backwards, was a six piece. Tim O'Brien is the lyric writer, but the song writing and arrangement is a painstakingly collaborative process in which the band aims for democracy over swiftness. The record also features the band’s first major work with the producer Daniel Enrique Howard, whom the band recorded with at his studio in Brooklyn. Howard helped guide Blood into this new sonic territory. It is not a bedroom project, but instead fully realized, somehow sounding both intimate like Liz Harris’ Grouper feels intimate and totally vast in the way that a Talk Talk record feels vast. It’s in the same universe as Ought in its earlier iterations.

The songs on Loving You Backwards exist in the realm of ballads, heart-wrenching and weird pop with a post rock sensibility. It explores, as the title implies, approaching a relationship in the reverse, dealing with your past while you try to stay in the present. Loving You Backwards is a record of ideas and big honesty, but it’s also a record of genuinely pristine pop. A definitive statement from a band that is more than on the rise as truly excellent songwriters and performers."

As an organism, Blood circa Loving You Backwards, was a six piece. Tim O'Brien is the lyric writer, but the song writing and arrangement is a painstakingly collaborative process in which the band aims for democracy over swiftness.

The record also features the band's first major work with the producer Daniel Enrique Howard, whom the band recorded with at his studio in Brooklyn. Howard helped guide Blood into this new sonic territory. It is not a bedroom project, but instead fully realized, somehow sounding both intimate like Liz Harris' Grouper feels intimate and totally vast in the way that a Talk Talk record feels vast. It's in the same universe as Ought in its earlier iterations.

"Something happened on No. The early EPs from Baltimore’s Tomato Flower were pretty, dreamy psychedelia. Warm to the touch, like looking up at the trees on a cloudless day. On No, the four-piece’s debut album, those trees, that cloudless sky, have become haunted, thorny, stormy. It takes Tomato Flower from buttoned-up, almost technically formalist psych pop to something more urgent, raw, emotionally immediate. No is messier, more expansive, and through all of its chaos, the band’s most rigorous artistic statement to date.

No is the band’s first effort made entirely in person, the first thing tracked in a studio instead of in a bedroom. It is a highly collaborative record written and recorded by everyone, partially made live. It is very much the byproduct of a band that has done some serious touring, following a coast-to-coast tour with Animal Collective in the summer of 2022.

Lead single “Destroyer,” has Jamison Murphy practically screaming over angular guitars, oscillating in a sonic space somewhere between the prettiness of Broadcast and the sludge of Jesus Lizard. It also presents an early entry point to one of No’s major conceptual underpinnings: that of the breakup between Murphy and fellow co-lead vocalist and guitarist Austyn Wohlers, which occurred during the composition of the album.

It wouldn’t be fair to just call No a break up album. It’s far more complicated with that. No is a record about negation: I will not do this, you cannot tell me what to do, we are not living in a utopia, don’t be delusional. No embraces a kind of brutal realism, a confrontation of life that only happens when you wizen up a little bit. All of it is a brutal delight, a departure from the past, a nod to a startling present."

Psychedelic Anxiety, as a mood, goes something like this: overwhelming, existential, vertigoic, arising when we stare into the void. This metaphysical unease also serves as the title for Brooklyn-based musician Frances Chang’s second album, and as a feeling it’s present throughout, charged by all things occultish. Recorded by Chang and engineer Andrea Schiavelli, featuring a cast of revered NYC DIY players, including Schiavelli (Eyes of Love) and Liza Winter (Birthing Hips), Psychedelic Anxiety relishes in the refining of aesthetic, in the electricity of improvisation, in balancing bleakness with humor. It embodies an idiosyncratic genre Chang calls slacker prog — offbeat, but brimming with spiritual and emotional resonance. The record infuses artifacts of the mundane with otherworldliness— even the love songs live more in the realm of fantasy (or horror) than the romantic. The psychic twin and mirror image of Chang’s 2022 debut full-length Support Your Local Nihilist, Psychedelic Anxiety by comparison is less urgent, leaving space for more nuance and storytelling. Together, these albums represent a new cycle of creativity for Chang, a reset to zero. “Eye Land,” captures Chang on a tour around the Irish and English countryside, in a moment of major life change. “Lying around your spare room,” she sings, “Sky is cloudy here in June.” Around her, guitar sputters and stops. Vocals branch off like vines on the side of an old house. It is a profoundly lovely song, a freaky miniature in the way that a Broadcast song is a freaky miniature. “Darkside” opens up with a particularly memorable narrative moment. “Last night I saw Parasite,” sings Chang, describing how she saw it alone, how regular life that week was acute, weird, intense. How she found comfort in resignation. After all: Psychedelic Anxiety is a serene, bizarre record full of alien sounds and big introspection.

Tallahassee, FL singer-songwriter Sarah Morrison's debut studio album
Attachment Figure depicts the strangeness of exploring new
relationships with subtle and spacious electronic production - As a
former live keyboardist in Locate S,1, Morrison co-produced Attachment
Figure with fellow bandmates Ross Brand and Clayton Rychlik, both of
whom also play in Of Montreal's backing band
She was motivated to experiment with looser song structures and more
unconventional chord progressions by her collaborators' fondness for avantgarde jazz, as well as Locate S,1 frontwoman Christina Schneider's idiosyncratic
writing style.
Throughout the album, echoing keys, woodwinds, and guitar ripple like a moonlit
lake from which Morrison's voice emerges. Her presence is spectral, yet
conversational, willing to conjure concrete imagery of mango- flavored vitamins
and the warmth of phone chargers alongside ghost stories of mannequin corpses
and epistolary curses, a balance shaped by an obsession with the theatrical
sincerity of Kate Bush and Mark Hollis.
Lyrically, Attachment Figure meditates on questions about identity, personal
growth, and helplessness - whether within a relationship or the oppressive
structures of society itself - often rooted in Morrison's experiences growing up in
the South. "There's a connection between Southern hospitality and femininity and
just allowing things to happen," Morrison says. "I've been in many relationships
with people who have used that 'southern charm' to their advantage. I think a lot
of people, non- men in particular, put on this charm instinctively. It's a defense
mechanism that I was interested in studying."
Attachment Figure is perpetually suspended between states of being, harmony
and dissonance, and contradictory sentiments we all hold as we enter into the
arms of someone new, but ultimately, it's guided by a desire for authentic love--
and a flair for intricate, intuitive songcraft.

The first track of Godcaster's fervid self-titled album, Diamond's Shining Face, is a reentry, a display of a band metamorphosed into a harder, more devastating form.

Their previous releases and euphoric live demonstrations have established Godcaster as an unstoppable Promethean force, always moving towards their next conquest. For their self- titled second full- length, they have set out, armed with a new certainty, to communicate the feeling of overwhelming light they experience while performing "a brightness that moves beyond its common properties of health and guidance to become a force that burns and ravages.

There is a clear maturation from the group on Godcaster. Many of the brighter, bouncier elements fiercely executed on Long Haired Locusts and the Saltergasp EP have been all but buried and traded in for something heavier. The angular sass and joviality in the troupe's past have been stripped of frivolity, rounded out, dirtied, and stretched to create a more expansive, full-bodied practice.

Each of the songs are emotional, narrative vignettes showcasing a more deliberate and sincere lyrical and sonic turn. Nowhere is Godcaster's newfound immensity better demonstrated than on the album's two anchoring, ten- plus minute epics "the relentless Didactic Flashing Antidote, and the kinetic Draw Breath Cry Out.

The shorter pieces further demonstrate the dynamism and versatility of the group, with equally hypnotic and roaring pieces (Vivian Heck and Death's Head Eyed Hawkmoth), alongside gentle, welcome respites (Albino Venus and Pluto Shoots His Gaze).

It requires significant confidence in the work to release an eponymous album.

Trust that Godcaster is an immense declaration of self- actualization by the magnificent juggernaut known by the same name.

Hitting play on SEAMOSS2, the latest missive from Portland noisetinkerers Sea Moss, is like punching the big red button on a cartoon
bomb before it explodes into a multicolored mushroom cloud
From the second Nap Time revs up, vocalist Noa Ver and drummer Zach
D'Agostino absolutely clobber the listener with a distorted hodgepodge of sounds
as raw and violent as they are winkingly playful, as if Black Dice and Melt-Banana
were caught in the middle of some kind of psychotic square dance together.The
duo's setup "which involves a primitive assemblage of hacked feedback
oscillators, colorful Rococo tin boxes, and a contact mic plugged directly onto
Ver's neck to capture her barking intonations " harkens back to an era of DIY
where live performance meant everything. Blurring the line between reckless
improvisation and tightly- knit compositions, the band achieves a disorientingly
complex interplay. Though Sea Moss's music may initially seem to be an act of
pure blunt force, the duo's true prowess lies in the intricacy of their rhythmic
interplay. As freeform as it all might seem, SEAMOSS2 contains the band's most
potent, precise compositions yet, refining the distinct style they forged on
disorienting releases like Bread Bored and Bidet Dreaming into a thrilling act of
controlled chaos.
In an era where the communal spirit of DIY feels more difficult to achieve than
ever, Sea Moss embody the classic ethos of weirdo punk music in all its absurdity
and wonder. It's this same sense of scrappiness that's earned them attention
from legends like Lightning Bolt and Machine Girl, and SEAMOSS2 illustrates why
they're every bit as deserving of their own trophy in the noise-rock hall of fame
one adorned in broken contact mics and scuffed-up scratches from one too many
bloody basement shows.